Motive Force
by WhyTryHarder56
Summary: A Skitarii Ranger Alpha finds himself in league with a couple of teenage girls.


Noospheric chatter filled Alpha 13-Trinium's mind alongside constantly updated reports from the rest of his detachment. The visual feeds of the dozen other Skitarii Rangers and pict captures from orbit merged seamlessly into one picture for him. The only important thing it told him was that his unit was surrounded, cut off from the rest of the cohort.

Trinium shot cultists at point blank range, his phosphor pistol half igniting, half melting the fragile humans that came too close to him. Around him a mixture of his rangers and the radium soaked vanguard of Alpha Ghet 53-56 fought a losing battle on old walkways. The semi-stone metal platforms of the machine temple were still covered in dirt from recent excavation.

A stray cultist, wielding a wicked curved blade charged him. Trinium's phosphor pistol clicked empty, and in one mechanical motion, he shifted his footing to face the assailant. The cultist gave a wild swing at the ranger Alpha, missing horrendously, and in the next moment, Trinium brought his other arm forward in a small arc, his previously unsullied arc maul pulping the face of the man. Unclean blood spattered his robes and mask.

The Great Enemy had been as cunning as ever and had overextended the lines of the Explorator Magos, luring him in with the promise of securing the long buried temple. Trinium had not been privy to the details of the relic and his frustration made him push harder against the waves of cultists that attempted to swarm them.

Trinium could feel the anger and determination of his unit, he could feel the outrage felt by his masters, hundreds of kilometers above the surface. His own pride and ambition would not allow him to fail without decimating the enemy, especially in the setting of the holy relic temple.

The binaric cant of the Skitarii reached a near deafening tone when the torso of 13-Trinium 4-10 burst in a shower of gore and war plate. From the rear of the cultist lines, large figures moved at inhuman speeds, sending flying explosive bolts towards him and his men. As they lumbered closer, Trinium got a better look at the Renegade Astartes: huge, towering things, covered in etchings and scripts of human flesh, helmets crowned with beastly horns. A pauldron flashed towards his direction revealed the heraldry of the Word Bearers.

Trinium's artificially suppressed emotions boiled at the sight of the Arch-Traitors. A quick blurt of binaric cant had his Skitarii moving into position. The hardier vanguard moved to the front to intercept the relentless waves of cultists, while the remainder of his rangers began to trade shots with the quickly closing Traitor Marines.

With no small amount of satisfaction, he watched as some of the Astartes crumpled to the ground as their helmets were popped like overly ripe fruit. His unit continued to take losses from the precision shots of the inhuman Chaos Space Marines and the vanguard seemed as though they would be overrun at any moment.

Trinium's resolve to gut the enemy even in their victory resounded firmly within him. He moved to the waning line of vanguard and held up his arc maul, uttering the loudest binaric shout he could with his implanted vox. As he did so, he stared down one of the Traitor Marines, presumably the head of the strike, clad in gilded armor with a large eight-pointed halo circling his head. The super human met the eyes of Trinium through the lenses of his mask, showing off sharpened teeth with a diabolic grin.

The presumed commander of the attack waded through the cultists, waving his power maul before him to casually kill any of the fanatics in his way. At the same time, Trinium moved past the vanguard's line, clearing his own path to the enemy commander. Trinium paid no mind to the screaming degenerates around him, scything them down with ease as he moved onto his primary target.

Trinium allowed the arm carrying his phosphor blaster to fold backwards to the harness on his back. The pistol was disengaged from his arm and replaced with a second arc maul in the matter of a second. Once the two were almost on top of each other, the mass of cultists shied away, like darkness from the light of a lumen fixture.

The Astartes, both armor and skin covered in blasphemous writings, wasted no time to begin the duel. Immediately, he charged Trinium, no doubt thinking him a simple servitor. He may not have had the same inhuman speed as the Space Marine, but over a century of service to the Machine God and his blessed augmentations allowed him to fight close to the level of the Angels of Death.

The Chaos Champion leveled a swing for Trinium's torso, intending to pulverize the ranger Alpha. Trinium sidestepped, bringing one of his own weapons down towards the head of the champion, only for it to be swept aside by an armored palm. The first downwards swing was followed by a second, pressing the enemy commander back a step.

The second strike was blocked by a dark parody of a crozius arcanum, the crackling fields of the power weapon making Trinium's teeth buzz. He quickly disengaged to avoid being overpowered by the Renegade. The Heretic pressed his seeming advantage for another strike, more precise and careful this time.

Trinium saw himself from the perspective of his own men behind him. He saw himself from the huge frigates outside the planet's atmosphere. He saw the power maul streak towards him in several different lenses: x-ray, thermal, visible light.

Trinium did not consider himself to be a man to take risks. To take risks was to endanger the gifts of the Omnissiah. All the more in the situation he was in. However, without the human intellect and spirit of innovation, the infallible state of the machine would be incomplete.

That is why he prayed to the Omnissiah to guide his hands as he moved to parry the super human. With both of his arc mauls held before him, he took the brunt of the attack, the different fields of the weapons bouncing off of each other and hissing like static. The hydraulics and dampeners in his legs groaned as he shifted the weight of the blow, redirecting it downwards. In the same moment, he brought a wild haymaker of a swing into the head of the Chaos Champion.

Trinium-13 watched as the supercharged bludgeon crashed through the hateful halo decorating the armor of the Heretic before continuing on into the bare head of the champion. As he contentedly watched half of his enemy's head be baked in the super electricity, a bright flash from the ruined halo blinded him and sent him flying.

A/N: If you've come here from my other sad attempt at a story, it's dead. I really want to try and make this story more engaging and easy to read, etc.

I originally wanted 13-Trinium to be a Skitarii Vanguard, but he would inevitably kill half of the RWBY cast through rad poisoning. :L

Wish me luck, tell me how I'm doing.

WhyTryHarder56


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